


don’t forget to breathe

by carissima



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Being Responsible is Sexy, Daddy Kink, M/M, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-07
Updated: 2020-03-07
Packaged: 2021-02-26 14:31:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23047246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carissima/pseuds/carissima
Summary: “Thanks for dinner,” Zach says and grabs his coat, shrugging it on and pulling his toque out of the pocket, feeling more awkward than he’s felt in a long time. “Sorry your brother’s team sucks at hockey.”Willy rolls his eyes and shoves Zach towards the door. “See you tomorrow, dad.”Zach’s breath gets caught in his throat. “Right.”
Relationships: Zach Hyman/William Nylander
Comments: 17
Kudos: 371





	don’t forget to breathe

**Author's Note:**

> This is probably the gentlest daddy kink fic you’ll ever read. Thanks to Bee and Anabella for looking this over for me.

Zach loves winning, loves going out with his team to celebrate a good home win - especially against the fucking Habs - and he loves letting all the tension he carries around with him during the season just disappear for a few hours. He loves laughing at whatever bone-headed thing Mitchy or Hollsie come out with. He loves to just fucking relax, sometimes.

If his dumbass team would ever let him, anyway.

“Hey, Hyms,” Auston says, leaning in to speak right into Zach’s ear. When Zach looks at him, Auston glances over towards the bar where Willy and Kappy are giggling loudly. Willy’s got his shirt half unbuttoned and he’s gesturing wildly enough that Kappy has to keep ducking out of the way of his flying limbs. “You gonna cut him off?”

“Why me?” Zach asks and then drains the rest of his beer with a sigh.

“Because all the old marrieds left an hour ago and you’re the only responsible person left in this bar,” Auston says easily.

“Fuck you,” Zach says with a groan. “Freddie and Tys are both older than me. Go tell one of them to deal with Willy. I’m taking the night off.”

“Sure,” Auston says, amused. “Freddie’s over there,” he gestures, somewhere to his right, and Zach follows his movement until he finds Freddie, towering over the three petite blondes he’s talking to. “You wanna try and cockblock him, be my guest.”

Zach’s not dumb enough to piss off his goalie.

“And Tys left ten minutes ago,” Auston adds cheerfully.

Zach looks back over at Willy, who’s progressed to leaning on Kappy’s shoulder, his eyes mostly closed and yeah, he’s dribbling on Kappy’s very expensive, very ugly shirt. “Kappy can take him home,” Zach says firmly.

“Who’s Kappy taking home?” Mitch asks, appearing next to Auston like fucking magic. He looks over and snorts. “Kappy can’t find his own way home half the time.”

Now Kappy’s staring at Zach, his mouth twisted into an annoyed grimace and he’s pointing, not very subtly, at Willy.

“This isn’t my job, guys,” Zach whines. “I just want to come out, have a few drinks with my boys, and go home without putting one of you losers to bed with a bucket next to you so you don’t, you know, die during the night or something.”

“Sure,” Mitch says soothingly, but Zach’s not a fucking idiot, he can see the way Mitch is nudging Auston and the look they’re sharing. “Unfortunately, we’re fucking idiots and can’t be trusted to look after ourselves.”

“I hate you all so much,” Zach says and tugs Mitch into a headlock that makes him squawk in protest. Zach feels infinitely better and lets him go, snickering as Mitch tries to smooth his hair out. “You two gonna be okay getting home?”

“We’ll be fine,” Auston assures him, sneaking glances over towards Freddie and his harem. Zach rolls his eyes and punches him in the shoulder before he steels himself and walks casually over to the two idiots by the bar.

“Thank fuck,” Kappy says too loudly, jerking Willy awake. He looks around in confusion before he sees Zach in front of him and his sudden grin makes Zach feel stupidly guilty, for some reason.

“Hyms! Hymie! Zach, buddy,” Willy reels off quickly before he swipes the back of his hand over his mouth. “Time to go home.”

“Yeah,” Zach says and easily takes Willy off Kappy’s hands. “You okay, bud?”

“We beat the Habs,” Willy reminds him solemnly. “I think I drank too much.”

From somewhere behind them, Kappy snorts and Zach resists the urge to turn around and glare at him. “Think you probably did, Willy. You want me to take you home?”

“Mmmm,” Willy says noncommittally and slumps against Zach.

“You gotta stop hitting the gym,” Zach grunts, hauling his half-asleep teammate out to the front of the bar and climbing into the car he’d ordered five minutes ago. “Go back to being a lanky teenager.”

“Nope,” Willy says, his head flopping back to rest against the seat. “Worked hard for this rockin’ bod, Hyms.”

“And you’re respecting it by getting trashed once a week after a game, huh?” Zach points out dryly.

“Hey,” Willy protests, opening an eye to stare forlornly at him. “Gotta have some fun, Zach. Gotta loosen up and relax once in a while.”

Zach turns to stare out of the window. “Me or you?” he mutters under his breath. He can’t remember the last time he went out with the boys and didn’t end up taking at least one of them home, or putting more than one teammate in an Uber and waiting up for a text to make sure they arrived home safely. He’s not old. He’s 27, which is hardly the oldest on the team by a long way, and yet Willy and Mitch and Auston and every other damn player on their team makes him feel middle-aged compared to them. If they gave him one damn night off, he could get laid and chill the fuck out instead of worrying about their stupid asses night after night.

By the time they reach Willy’s place, he’s out of sorts and not in the mood to gently guide Willy to his condo. He leaves Willy slumped against the elevator wall as they ride up, ignoring his judgemental pout, and takes a firm grip of his arm to march him to his front door.

“Uh oh,” Willy singsongs as he hands Zach the front door key it’s just taken him five minutes to dig out of his back pocket. “Dad’s mad.”

Zach pauses, the door swinging open in front of them, and then turns to stare at Willy in disbelief. “What,” he says carefully, “did you just call me?”

“Zachy,” Willy says with his most charming smile. Except he’s drunk and there’s a telltale guilty flush creeping over his cheeks. “Zach Attack.”

“You just called me dad,” Zach says, his voice climbing in hysteria.

“Uh, no I didn’t?” Willy says and heads to the kitchen. He hears the sound of running water and then Willy’s back, handing him a glass of water and downing his own in one long gulp.

Feeling off-balance, Zach drinks his water at a slower pace but he doesn’t take his eyes off Willy, who’s looking about as shifty as he’s ever seen him. “Do you call me dad behind my back?” Zach asks slowly. He’s dreading the answer.

“No,” Willy lies. “We don’t.”

“We,” Zach echoes faintly. “The whole team?”

“No! Only like, me. And Kappy. Auston, Mitch,” Willy starts ticking off his own fingers. “Dermy, Hollsie, Jonny. Freddie won’t, because he says you’d be mad.”

Zach’s mouth tightens.

“Oh,” Willy says in surprise and peers at him, blinking widely. “Shit. You’re mad.”

“William,” Zach says as calmly as he can, too annoyed to enjoy the way Willy’s eyes widen at the use of his full name or the step back he takes out of Zach’s personal space. “You absolutely fuckin’ knew I’d be mad, which is why you say it behind my back.”

Willy bites his bottom lip and wisely keeps quiet. Zach would be proud of this personal growth if he wasn’t, like, fuming mad.

“Next time you or Mitchy or Auston get too drunk to find your way home, ask one of the other boys to help you, because I’m done,” Zach says. “I’m 27! I’m not the fucking team dad. Hollsie’s older than me! Just because I’m responsible and I like looking after you guys, that doesn’t mean you get to … to … laugh at me behind my back about it like the immature children that you clearly are. Fuck!”

Zach stalks into the kitchen, puts his glass carefully into the sink and heads straight for the door, unable to even glance at Willy because fuck, he’s so mad.

“You’re not the team dad,” Willy says, stopping Zach just as he’s got a hand on the door handle. He takes a deep breath and waits, unwilling to turn around but not walking out the door just yet either. “Like, Spez is the team dad.”

A few seconds pass, but apparently that’s all the explanation Willy’s going to give him, and it’s not nearly enough for Zach to just like, move on or whatever so he opens the door and slips out, closing it quietly behind him.

He gets most of the way home before he gives in and texts Willy a reminder to put a trash can or something by his bed, just in case.

Willy snapchats him a sleepy selfie with a thumbs up from his bed, because he’s an asshole.

Zach shoves his phone back in his pocket and focuses on breathing slowly. In and out.

*

“No one else really calls you dad,” Willy says as he comes to a stop next to Zach on the ice. They’re running drills and Zach is concentrating on what Coach is trying to focus on, rather than the argument he had with Willy ten whole hours ago.

“That’s not what you said last night,” Zach reminds him and then he skates off with Auston and Mitch next to him, battling across the ice towards Freddie.

“They think you’re like a dad,” Willy continues, the next time they’re lining up together. Zach throws him an unimpressed look and Willy rolls his eyes. “They think you look after them. Like a mother hen or whatever.”

“Right. That makes it so much better,” Zach grits out and circles away.

*

Willy keeps giving him sad, confused looks which is one of the dumbest expressions Zach’s ever seen, so he’s trying to get dressed and out of the locker room as quickly as he can once they’re given the go-ahead to leave. He’s just shoved his toque over his damp hair when he feels someone hovering behind him.

Zach sighs and stares upwards for a good half a minute before he starts to turn. “Look, I’m just not-.” Except it’s not Willy and his sad puppy eyes standing there.

“Hey Zach,” Spezza says and wow, he’s in trouble if Spez is using his real, given name. “What’s up?”

“Uh, not much,” Zach hedges. He grabs his bag and slings it over his shoulder, hoping that Spezza takes the hint.

“You sure, buddy?” Spezza asks. “You seemed a bit off out there.”

Zach frowns and shifts from foot to foot. “I was?” he asks. That’s - well, that’s fucked up. He’s never brought his personal shit to work before, not even as a kid. “Sorry, man. It won’t happen again,” Zach swears.

“Hey, no, that’s not what I’m trying to say,” Spezza says and puts his hand on Zach’s shoulder to give him a gentle squeeze. “You always give it a hundred percent out there.” Which, right. Spezza was the Sens captain, back in the day.

“Well, thanks for checking in but I’m fine,” Zach starts, when his gaze is drawn to something behind Spezza. Something turns out to be Willy, gesturing wildly at Spezza’s back and mouthing team dad in the most exaggerated, ridiculous mime, and Zach can’t stop his snort of laughter from escaping. “Sorry Spez, Willy’s just being an asshole behind you.”

“Heyyyy,” Willy protests and comes close enough to sling his arm around Spezza’s shoulder. “I’m not an asshole, right, Spez?”

Spezza lets himself be guided away to the other side of the room, clearly aware that he’s being distracted, but he’s been around long enough to let it slide. He doesn’t even look around when Zach slips out of the locker room, closing the door quietly behind him.

*

The problem with trying to maintain a good and decent level of annoyance at a teammate is proximity, Zach thinks with a long-suffering sigh when Willy corners him before their next game.

“Don’t be mad,” Willy says and grabs at Zach’s wrist to stop him from walking away. “I wasn’t laughing at you, like, behind your back. I swear, Zach. I wouldn’t.”

“Except you did,” Zach points out and shakes Willy off so he can, actually, walk away.

*

He doesn’t know how Willy managed to flood his phone with messages while they were both like, out on the ice, playing an actual NHL game together, something on the ice at the exact same time, and yet he’s got 54 WhatsApp messages between the time he turned his phone off before warmups and now, post-shower and on his way through the arena to his car. They’re mostly pictures of cute dogs, sprinkled with pleading messages of forgiveness and a picture of Willy, clearly taken post-game because he’s sweaty and tired, but he’s making a heart shape with both hands and smouldering for the camera.

Zach puts his phone away with a smile because he’s nearly at his car and looks up to find Willy casually leaning against it.

“Do you take pictures of Kappy when he’s apologizing to his girlfriends?” Zach asks.

“Maybe,” Willy says cautiously. He shoves his hands into his pockets and offers Zach a bright smile. “You still mad?”

Zach wants to be mad, which isn’t really the same thing at all. “We’re friends, right?”

“Of course,” Willy says quickly and stops leaning against Zach’s car to stand up, his whole demeanor shifting in an instant. “Zach, c’mon.”

“I’m always gonna be the responsible one,” Zach says and unlocks his car so he can throw his stuff inside but he doesn’t make any move to climb inside. “I don’t mind making sure you guys get home when you’re wasted or shoving a hand over your mouth when you’re about to say something really dumb and reckless, or checking in on you when you’re sick. We’re teammates, right? That’s what you do.”

“We’re friends too,” Willy says. “Not just teammates.”

“Right,” Zach says. “Right.” And he shoots Willy a smile. He can see Willy’s shoulders instantly sag just a little but he refuses to feel guilty about it. “So if you’re saying things about me behind my back because you know I won’t like it, then that’s kinda shitty, Will.”

“No problem,” Willy says and he’s making his way around the car to where Zach’s standing, clearly on a mission. “I’ll just say it to your face.”

“No, Will, that’s not what I-,” Zach laughs a little and breaks off when Willy wraps his arms around Zach in a bro hug. “That’s not what I meant, bud.”

“Okay, dad,” Willy mumbles into his shoulder.

“No,” Zach says firmly and shoves at the immovable object that is William Nylander in the middle of a hug. “Absolutely not.”

“It’s a sign of affection!” Willy insists, finally letting Zach go. He looks oddly insistent though, and Zach knows he’s in for a lot of teasing. But he can probably deal with it, as long as it’s only Willy, and he doesn’t start calling Zach dad in the middle of the locker room or anything.

“A private show of affection,” Zach allows. He watches Willy’s eyes narrow and his grin grow sharp and he realizes, far far too late, that he’s taken a wrong turn, somehow.

“Alright,” Willy allows too easily. “Hey, are you coming out tonight?”

“Nah,” Zach says with a sharp grin of his own. “You and Auston and all the other kids on the team will just have to look after yourselves for one night without me.”

“Zach,” Willy whines but he’s already climbing into his car, rolling down the window to wave goodbye as he pulls out of his space, leaving a laughing Willy behind him in his rearview mirror.

*

Willy - to Zach’s surprise - doesn’t bring it up at all for a few weeks. When Zach takes Travis home after his birthday celebrations get a little too wild, Willy doesn’t say a word. And Zach doesn’t forget, exactly, but he’s also home for the holiday break and chilling in his parents’ kitchen watching his mom cook dinner while talking a mile a minute - like she’s been storing up a month’s worth of conversation since the last time he dropped by - and when his phone lights up and he sees Willy’s name, he expects the worst. Instead, he gets a handful of messages about Kappy burning their Christmas Eve dinner, complete with photographic evidence, to which Zach replies with glowing references to his mom’s cooking - complete with photographic evidence - and ends with a promise to bring back any leftovers.

*

Willy comes down with the flu in February. Zach - and the rest of the team - get a few hundred messages each from him, mostly complaining about how sick and bored he is.

“Zach,” Auston groans, throwing his phone down on the table between them. They’re out for lunch, with Mitch and Freddie, and their phones have been going off in synchronised bursts for the last twenty minutes. “You gotta stop him.”

Zach ignores him and determinedly continues eating his noodles.

“He just sent a selfie,” Mitch says and there’s a phone being shoved into his face. “Of his feet.”

“At least he’s wearing socks,” Zach mumbles through his mouthful.

“That’s what he said!” Auston reaches over and drags Zach’s plate away from him because he’s an asshole. “C’mon, Zach. Go over there and give him some attention so he can quit bugging the rest of us.”

“So what you’re saying,” Zach muses, leaning across the table to snatch his plate back from Auston’s greedy paws, “is that in addition to missing Willy for a few games, and possibly JT and Hollsie, you want me to catch his flu and miss some games as well?”

Auston’s phone lights up again like a beacon between them on the table. “I’d consider taking the hit,” Auston mutters.

“Pretty sure Keefe and the rest of the team wouldn’t agree,” Zach says and shovels a forkful of food into his mouth. “But it’s nice to know what you’re willing to sacrifice me for.”

“Gotta do it man, for the greater good,” Mitch interjects. “Save us from Willy.”

Zach chews his food and stares blankly at Mitch until he sighs and throws down his phone in surrender.

*

Zach sends Willy some chicken broth from his favorite restaurant. Willy goes silent for two whole hours, during which time Zach gets messages from both Auston and Mitch filled with happy emojis. He sends some more a few hours later along with a message to make sure Willy is still alive, since he’s been silent for six hours.

_broth is amazingggg!!! thanks dad!!!_

Zach decides to let it go, just this once.

*

Willy walks into the locker room looking two shades paler than normal and carrying a mug of chicken broth. Zach hides his grin in his jersey as he goes back to pulling it over his head.

“Willy!” Mitch throws his arms around him, careful not to spill the soup. “Thought you were dead.”

“That’s weird,” Willy says and takes a sip of his broth. “See, I was texting you all from my death bed, my teammates, my family, and yet not a single person texted back, except for Kappy.”

“Told him to fuck off and go to sleep,” Kappy interjects.

Willy pouts at him for a second. Then he switches his attention back to Mitch, who’s looking slightly guilty.

“I got the message,” Willy continues, glancing around the room to stare coolly at his team one by one. Except for Zach. When Willy catches his eye, he lights up and Zach feels a whole lot warmer, all of a sudden. “Seems like none of you cared about how I was doing. I thought we were brothers, guys.”

“Fuck off,” Auston says, sounding bored. He shoves his feet into his sliders and stands up, moving towards Willy to clap a hand on his shoulder. “Glad you’re back man, but never send me snapchats of your disgusting used tissues ever again, or I’m blocking you.”

“Just keeping you up to date with what’s happening in my life!” Willy grins but Auston’s halfway out the door and ignores him.

Willy snickers and heads towards his stall before he takes a detour to the other side of the room where Zach’s still watching him. “Thanks for the soup,” he says. He’s an inch too close to Zach, like he usually does.

“It’s broth,” Zach says because he can’t help himself, and he likes the way Willy pretends not to be annoyed by Zach’s pedantry.

“Thanks for the broth, then,” Willy says easily. “It was kind of a dad move though to send it, don’t you think?”

Zach fights a smile and slings his arm around Willy’s shoulders instead, pulling him in gently for a quick hug. “Good to have you back, bro.”

Willy beams up at him and takes another sip.

*

It doesn’t take a full practice for the team to accept that Willy isn’t back to full strength yet. It’s a blow, especially with half the current team under the weather.

“Here,” Zach says, shoving a water bottle in Willy’s face.

“This is how spreading germs works,” Willy scolds but he takes a long drink anyway.

“Keep your head up,” Zach reminds him. “And you need something more substantial than chicken broth before the game if you want to last 60 minutes.”

“Yes, dad,” Willy says with an accompanying eye roll. “Does this mean you’re offering to make me lunch?”

“No chance,” Zach says. He doesn’t want to be exposed to Willy’s disgusting germs, and Willy’s a cuddler if he’s not given strict ground rules. Willy responds best to clear and finite boundaries. “Maybe when you’re feeling better though.”

“It’s a date,” Willy says and knocks Zach’s gloved hand with one of his before he skates away, a little slower than usual.

It takes the rest of practice for Zach to realize that Willy called him dad again and Zach didn’t even give a token protest. Next time, there’s gonna be ground rules.

*

Zach doesn’t spend a lot of time at Willy’s place, as a rule. It’s a nice place, all clean lines and big windows with plenty of light and a couch big enough to fit the entire d-corps.

“We could have just done lunch,” Zach says, leaning against the wall and peering into the kitchen where Willy’s stirring pasta on the stove and throwing an assortment of herbs into the sauce. “You didn’t have to go to this much trouble.”

“Are you impressed?” Willy asks, glancing over his shoulder. He looks curious, his eyebrows raised as he carries on stirring.

“A little,” Zach admits with a smile. “Are you trying to impress me?”

“Always,” Willy says, and Zach honestly doesn’t know if he’s being chirped or not. Willy has an incredibly expressive face most of the time, but every now and again he manages to wrong-foot Zach, and he’s pretty sure it’s deliberate.

“Job done then, I guess,” Zach murmurs. “Can I do anything?”

Willy directs him to pouring drinks and tossing a salad that neither of them will willingly eat, and then it’s to the couch to eat while they watch the Rangers beat the Hawks.

“Alex got an assist on that one,” Zach says. Their dirty dishes are in the sink and Zach’s spent the last ten minutes watching Willy watch his brother’s team get dunked on in the third period.

“Not much of a consolation,” Willy says and kicks his foot out to connect with Zach’s.

“I imagine he’s used to it, playing for the ‘Hawks,” Zach says dryly.

“Hey,” Willy says, more in defense of his brother than any secret love for the Blackhawks that Willy’s harboring, Zach guesses, but he finds himself in a tussle with Willy anyway.

And Willy isn’t a lanky teenageer anymore.

He’s still incredibly uncoordinated for an elite hockey player. If he hasn’t got a stick in his hands or there’s no cameras to switch it on for, Willy is all arms and legs and no idea what to do with them.

“Don’t ever drop the gloves, bud,” Zach grunts as he pins Willy down onto the couch. He’s sprawled out on top of Willy, their legs tangled and his arm braced against Willy’s chest to keep him still.

“And risk this face?” Willy looks appalled. “Or these hands?”

“What are you saying about my face and hands?” Zach asks in a dry tone.

Willy shifts a little underneath him. Zach lifts himself up a little, taking some of the weight off him.

“Strong hands, distinguished face?” Willy offers, which catches Zach so off-guard that Willy easily tips him off the couch and onto his back, staring up at the ceiling from Willy’s cool hardwood floor.

“Ouch,” he says belatedly and sees Willy peering over the couch to look at him. So Zach does the only thing he can in that moment, and grabs Willy’s hand to yank him down onto the floor with him.

“This isn’t,” Willy gasps as they roll into the coffee table, “very responsible of you, dad.”

“You gotta stop,” Zach groans as he tries to catch Willy’s wrists, but he’s fast, wily and slippery as fuck, “calling me that.”

“Sign of affection,” Willy says and bucks his hips up to try to get Zach off him.

Zach bites off another groan and focuses on making himself as heavy as possible. He’s got four younger brothers and he’s never lost a wrestling match in his life. He doesn’t plan to ruin his perfect record with a Nylander. “Affection my ass,” he mutters.

“I’m a very affectionate person,” Willy insists, wriggling under Zach like a slippery eel.

“You’re a little shit and you know it,” Zach counters and finally gets his hands around Willy’s wrists to pin them over his head.

Willy grunts softly and arches his back, stretching and flexing his arms. “Yeah? You gonna teach me a lesson, daddy?”

Zach gasps, his eyes widening as he stares at Willy underneath him. “Wha-,” he blurts out before he freezes, suddenly very aware that Willy is stretched out under him and Zach has him restrained. Willy doesn’t look upset or unhappy though. He looks … calm.

“You’re such a dick,” Zach says too loudly and scrambles to get up, trying to avoid touching Willy any more than he has to. “I uh, should get home. Game day tomorrow.”

“Gotta beat the Pens,” Willy agrees and gets to his feet with a million times more finesse than Zach could ever hope for.

“Thanks for dinner,” Zach says and grabs his coat, shrugging it on and pulling his toque out of the pocket, feeling more awkward than he’s felt in a long time. “Sorry your brother’s team sucks at hockey.”

Willy rolls his eyes and shoves Zach towards the door. “See you tomorrow, dad.”

Zach’s breath gets caught in his throat. “Right.”

And then he’s out the door, closing it behind him and leaning against it, closing his eyes and breathing hard. Each breath he takes is shaky and too sharp. He can hear Willy in his head, saying words that make Zach’s heart pound and he doesn’t understand why.

Only the fear that Willy might open his front door and find him still standing there makes him move, taking slow steps to the elevator.

When he gets home, he still feels off-balance and jumps into the shower, wilfully ignoring the semi he’s been sporting since he left Willy’s place.

*

Zach tries to put the whole awkward situation behind them. He’s an excellent compartmentalist, which is how he manages three careers simultaneously, and it helps when he needs to put Willy calling him daddy in a box and close the damn lid. He doesn’t need to think about that, like, ever. There’s no reason for him to dwell on it, on the cadence of Willy’s voice as he said, well, what he said.

Sometimes, he thinks about it when they’re on a road trip and he’s alone in his hotel room, painfully aware that Willy is a few doors away. Sometimes, Zach thinks about it when he steps into the shower, loose from a nap and half-ready to jerk off before he even has a solid thought. Sometimes, Zach thinks about it when he wakes up in the middle of the night, when he’s still in that dream state where anything seems possible. Sometimes, Zach really hates his own thoughts.

Willy, for his part, doesn’t seem to be aware of Zach’s sudden inability to compartmentalise. If anything, he seems to be doubling down on making Zach’s life extremely difficult.

“Mitch is going hard tonight,eh?” Willy says. They’re at a table, celebrating a win over the Pens, and both of them are watching Mitch flirting hard with both Auston and Soupy. He’s all over both of them but he hasn’t reached his super clingy stage yet, since they’re both laughing and focused on keeping Mitch mostly upright. “You gonna take him home, dad?”

“Stop with the dad jokes,” Zach groans and shifts in his seat.

“Who’s joking?” Willy wonders. “You gonna get mad if I don’t? Maybe send me to my room?”

“Is that an option?” Zach asks. “Because yeah, actually. I get no respect around here.”

“Hey,” Willy protests. “I respect the hell out of my elders.”

“Fuck me.” Zach slams his drink down on the table and puts his head in his hands. “C’mon, Willy. The jokes are getting old now. I get it, I’m old and boring.”

When Willy doesn’t say anything, Zach peeks between his fingers to find Willy giving him a considering stare. As Zach lifts his head, Willy’s tongue flicks out and licks his lips almost idly, like he’s unaware of what he’s doing.

Zach shifts in his seat again.

“You know,” Willy says finally, in that slow way that he speaks sometimes, the one that makes Zach grind his teeth because he knows--he just knows--that he’s going to hate whatever Willy says next, “I don’t think you hate it at all.”

“What, being called dad and old when I’m what, four years older than you?”

Willy shrugs. “You like looking after us. You like being the responsible one. You like being so much more mature than the rest of us.”

“Not true,” Zach lies. It’s such a blatant, terrible falsehood that Willy starts laughing, loud and obvious and Zach scowls at him.

“Sure, dad,” Willy says and tips his head towards Mitch, who’s now being half-dragged by Auston towards their table. “Whatever you say.”

*

Mitch walks into the locker room the next day with his aviators still on and his toque pulled as low as he can stretch it.

Zach snorts loudly, drawing Mitch’s attention and lifting his arm so Mitch can snuggle into his side with a low whine. “You went hard last night, eh buddy?”

“My head hurts, Zachy,” Mitch complains and buries his face into Zach’s neck.

Zach wouldn’t normally offer any sympathy to hungover teammates, but Mitchy looks so awful that Zach pushes his toque off and strokes his fingers through Mitch’s lanky hair. “Why are you here so early then, idiot? No one else is even here yet.”

“Didn’t want to oversleep. Thanks bro,” Mitch murmurs, barely opening his eyes as Auston walks up, which is when Zach knows he’s really suffering.

“Wow dude,” Auston says, biting his bottom lip to stop himself from laughing at Mitch’s pathetic expression. “You want a gatorade?”

“Yes,” Mitch groans and makes grabby hands, downing almost the whole bottle in one long, disgusting gulp.

“So, hey,” Zach says and clears his throat as Auston and Mitch both turn their heads to look at him. Mitch looks marginally better and he’s now hanging off Auston, leaving Zach to fold his hands together nervously. “Do you ah, think I’m old? And like, maybe I don’t know, boring or whatever?”

“Dude, no way,” Mitch says so quickly that Zach lets out a relieved breath. “You’re the best, Zachy.”

Zach reaches out to stroke the back of his finger down Mitch’s cheek. “Thanks, bud. So you guys don’t think I’m the team dad?”

“Nope,” Auston says. “That’s Spezza, idiot.”

“For sure,” Mitch agrees. “Maybe like, a dad in training though.”

Zach winces.

“No but a cool, young-ish dad,” Mitch adds, sounding totally sincere and making Zach feel even worse.

“Right,” he says flatly.

“What’s the problem?” Mitch asks, clearly confused by the whole conversation and Zach’s not even sure he can blame the alcohol. “I can’t wait to be a dad. Being a dad would be awesome.”

“Dude, please don’t have kids any time soon,” Auston tells him. “Kids shouldn’t have kids, Mitchy.”

Mitch’s face falls comically before he launches himself at Auston and hilariously tries to get him into a headlock. Zach watches them flail together for a few moments and vaguely considers breaking the two of them up. Then Auston smacks Mitch in the face, taking them both by stunned surprise and Zach decides to leave them to it.

“Knock yourselves out,” he tells them and turns back to his stall. Some of the team are starting to arrive, filling the room and leaving less room for the two of them to do any real damage to each other. “But if one of you gets injured, Keefe’s gonna get mad,” he adds over his shoulder.

“Yeah,” Auston says and gives Mitch a shove. Then he adds, quietly, “Dad.”

“I heard that!” Zach yells.

*

Zach thinks of himself as a smart guy. Mostly because the guys he spends most of his time with are idiots, but still. He’s got a good head on his shoulders. So when he’s confronted with a problem, he wants to figure it out and solve it so he can get on with his life and stop fixating on the dumb shit that his brain focuses on.

So he invites himself over to Willy’s for lunch after practice and gets the recently discovered amazing side benefit of Willy’s cooking once again.

“You gonna invite me over next time, bro?” Willy asks, leaning against the kitchen counter while he watches Zach wash up, because he’s a guest and his mom raised him right.

“Yeah, I can’t cook for shit,” Zach says over his shoulder. “Pretty good at ordering takeout though.”

“Food is food,” Willy says wisely and Zach flicks some soapy water at him before he wipes his hands dry and they head for the couch. Willy puts something on Netflix but Zach’s got plans.

“You whiffed pretty hard on that shot today,” Zach says casually. “Want me to show you some pointers tomorrow?”

“Fuck you,” Willy laughs and settles himself back against the cushions, tucking his feet under Zach’s thighs. He wiggles around until he’s happy, and Zach reaches down to curl his hand around Willy’s ankle. “You fanned on at least three shots.”

“Yeah, but they pay you the big bucks,” Zach says solemnly. “Actually, you can get takeout next time with that nice contract of yours.”

“You’re a published author, asshole,” Willy giggles and digs his toes deeper into Zach’s thigh. “And whatever that gamer shit is that you’re always going on about.”

“Gamer shit?” Zach feigns outrage and leans over to swat at him. Which is exactly all it takes for them to start wrestling and Willy’s laughing like he knows exactly what Zach’s doing. Either he lets Zach pin him back against the cushions or he’s gotten even worse at fighting than he was last week, but either way Zach finds himself on top of Willy again.

“Hi,” Willy says, looking far too pleased to have a grown hockey player pressing his weight down on top of him. He flexes his thighs a little and Zach realizes a little too late that he’s settled comfortably between Willy’s legs. Willy raises his eyebrows a little and very slowly, he raises his arms up until they’re above his head.

Zach’s not even holding him down.

Breathing hard, Zach stares him. “What are you doing?”

Willy tilts his chin down just a little. “Could ask you the same thing,” he says, and they both hear the word he’s not saying.

Zach shifts his hips and sucks in another breath. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you picked a fight with me and now you’ve got me where you want me,” Willy murmurs. He doesn’t look upset about it. In fact, quite the opposite. “You want me to say it?”

Zach’s heart is thumping so loudly in his chest that he can barely hear him. “Yeah,” he says shakily.

“What do you want to do to me,” Willy whispers. “Daddy.”

Zach kisses him. God, he doesn’t even think about it. Willy was talking and then Zach’s mouth is there, covering his, stealing the word from his lips. One of them groans - he thinks it’s Willy but fuck if he knows - and Zach grinds his body down, his dick harder than it’s been in weeks. Maybe ever. Willy’s arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer even though there’s not a breath of air between their bodies. Willy’s mouth opens and his tongue thrusts into Zach’s mouth and this time, it’s definitely Zach who groans, who rolls his hips and finds Willy’s just as into this as he is.

“Fuck,” Willy whispers against his mouth and Zach drags his hands up Willy’s body, his beautiful, hard body, and then back down again, like he doesn’t know exactly where to touch next. His head is spinning. His mouth feels bruised but he can’t pull away, doesn’t want to pull away, and he goes back in for more.

He kisses Willy until he feels like he’s drowning, gasping for air and when he finally pulls back and drags in a ragged breath, the fog in his brain lifts and he stares down at Willy, his eyes widening as he takes in Willy’s messed up, puffy lips and his finger-mussed hair.

“Fuck,” Zach swears and scrambles to his feet, backing away and forcing himself to turn around. “Fuck, Willy. I’m sorry, yeah? I’m so fucking sorry.”

Then he’s grabbing his sneakers and his jacket and he’s out of there before Willy can say anything.

*

Willy texts him on his drive home. He’s barely calmed down by the time he flops down onto his couch and pulls his phone out because all he’s thought about the whole way home is the way he basically just assaulted Willy for calling him daddy, like what kind of fucked up shit was that? Why did he react like a fucking animal because Willy teased him for the same fucking shit he’s been saying for weeks now?

Zach’s so fucked up.

_you don’t have to be sorry_

Zach stares at the message and somehow feels worse. _yes i do_ he replies.

_i was into it_

Zach feels like he might be having a panic attack. Willy’s into his weird fucked up shit? Willy’s still typing though and when the next message comes through, Zach can’t actually breathe.

_I’m into you_.

With shaking hands, Zach types out a message._ I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened. This is fucked up._

Willy reads the message but he doesn’t immediately reply and Zach swears loudly and types out another._ I think I’m into you too_.

Willy’s reply is almost instantaneous._ I wanna kiss you again_

Zach surprises himself with a laugh and rubs his hand over his face. God, he’s so into Willy. How did that sneak up on him? _I think I need some space to think about this, is that okay?_

_Whatever you need_

Zach closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

*

Considering he knows exactly how Willy’s mouth feels underneath his, and how Willy’s body feels pressed against his as close as they could possibly get while fully clothed, Zach thinks he does a good job of keeping his distance. They go on a quick road trip and, outside of team stuff, Willy doesn’t make any move to spend time with Zach or give any indication that they totally made out like horny teenagers, rubbing off on each other because Zach had a weird fucking reaction to Willy calling him daddy.

Zach gets hot even thinking about it. And not in a sexy way. He’s embarrassed and unable to look at Willy’s face because he’s terrified that he’s going to see some kind of judgement or disgust in his expression at how fucking weird Zach is.

But because Zach is who he is, as soon as they get home from their trip and he’s unloaded his laundry and changed into sweats and a soft tee, Zach grabs his laptop and settles himself on his couch and pulls up his favorite porn site. It’s 2am but they’ve got a rare day off tomorrow and he can’t put this off any longer. He pulls up the search bar and types daddy.

Fuck, there’s a lot of videos. He scrolls through a few and tries to ignore his racing heartbeat. None of the titles entice him and he scrolls some more before he decides to stop being such a coward and clicks on one.

Five minutes later, he’s panting, staring at the screen as he waits for the feeling in his thighs to return. He’s got jizz all over his belly and his cock is still twitching in his loose grip as the twink on his screen begs the guy fucking him to come inside him, _please daddy_.

Fuck.

There’s so many videos. Zach grabs himself a gatorade from his fridge, cleans himself up, gets naked and plucks his lube from his bedroom, just in case. Then he settles in and finds another video. He doesn’t jerk off to it this time, but his dick is definitely interested.

When he wakes up in the morning, it’s almost 10am and sunlight is streaming into the room, harsh and bright. His laptop screen is still on, the last video he remembers watching pulled up and frozen on the two dudes fucking, the daddy on top with his hand wrapped around the other guy’s neck, fucking into him from behind and if Zach remembers correctly, barking at the guy to keep calling him daddy.

Zach watched a lot of videos though, so he might have gotten a few mixed up.

He doesn’t even know what time he passed out, but he remembers jerking off twice more after the first time.

Biting his lip, he thinks about getting up and hitting the shower, since he’s a fucking mess. But his gaze keeps drifting over to his laptop and after wavering for a few minutes, he sighs and reaches over to press play. The guy being fucked cries out daddy almost immediately and Zach’s hand wraps around his rapidly fattening dick.

*

He showers, after, and spends an hour fucking around his apartment, tidying shit that doesn’t need to be tidied and writing a list of groceries that he may or may not need.

Then he picks up his phone and texts Willy. _you busy_?

His phone rings almost a minute later. “Hey,” Willy says, sounding completely normal while Zach’s in the middle of having some kind of breakdown over his weird fucked up shit. Zach might hate him, just a little.

“Hey,” Zach says, trying to sound normal at least and probably failing miserably. “You at home?”

“Yeah,” Willy says around a yawn. “What’s up?”

“Are you uh, alone?” Zach asks.

There’s a long pause. “Hyms, are you angling for phone sex?” Willy asks finally, sounding amused.

“What? No!” Zach splutters.

“I mean, I’m not saying no,” Willy assues him, laughing outright now.

“Willy,” Zach groans. “Are you alone?”

“Yes babe,” Willy says, lowering his voice and god, Zach’s fucked because his dick actually twitches. What the hell is wrong with him?

“So I’ve been watching a lot of porn,” Zach starts and he hears Willy’s strangled gasp down the line, which makes him grin. “I think it’s called daddy porn.”

“Really,” Willy murmurs, clearly better at regaining his chill than Zach has ever been. “What did you think?”

“I think it’s fucked up and weird,” Zach admits honestly.

Willy hums thoughtfully. “You jerked off, didn’t you?”

“Maybe,” Zach says, because he’s no liar. “That’s weird, right?”

“No,” Willy says, so easily and simply that Zach feels a rush of something flood through him. “Look, if it feels good, and you’re into it, then who cares? I’m not gonna tell anyone or anything.”

“But I don’t want to be into it,” Zach says softly.

“Maybe you just need to get more comfortable with it,” Willy suggests. “With me.”

Zach laughs softly. “Yeah? You don’t think I’m fucked up?”

“Hyms,” Willy says and he suddenly sounds more serious than Zach’s heard him in a long time. Maybe not since their rookie year. “I meant it when I said I was into you. And whatever you’re into. Did it seem like I wasn’t into it when we almost fucked on my sofa?”

Zach goes hot all over. And this time, it’s the sexy kind. “I’m into you too,” he says.

“Good,” Willy says and he can’t hide how pleased he sounds. Zach’s not sure he’s even trying to. “Communication is key. If you’re not comfortable, we can just like, stop or whatever.”

“You should come over for dinner,” Zach says quickly and then flushes at how eager he sounds. Like a goddamn teenager. But Willy just admitted he was into Zach and he’s not scared off by Zach’s new weird sex thing that he seems to be into, and he just really, really wants to kiss him again.

“You gonna show off your amazing takeout skills?” Willy teases.

“Maybe,” Zach says and glances at the clock. It’s only 1pm. He should have said lunch. “You coming over?”

“Yes, Zach,” Willy says, like Zach’s asked the stupidest question ever. And it’s entirely possible that he has. “I’m coming over for dinner and anything else you want to try.”

Zach’s mouth turns up into an irrepressible grin. “Awesome.”

*

Zach’s doorbell rings at 3pm. Frowning, he goes to the door and opens it to find Willy standing there, looking like a goddamn snack and smiling sheepishly at him.

“You eat early, right?” Willy asks, and he’s grinning hard.

“Yes,” Zach says fervently and grabs Willy to pull him inside. The door slams shut behind them but Zach’s already pushing Willy against the wall, kissing him desperately. Willy wraps himself around Zach and kisses him back. Zach knocks Willy’s dumb toque off his head, letting it fall to the floor while he drags his fingers through Willy’s hair. He needs a haircut. Zach’s gonna tell him just as soon as he finishes kissing the fuck out of him.

Except Willy slips his hands under Zach’s hoodie and Zach groans, arching into his touch and abandoning his mouth, kissing his way down Willy’s neck and nipping his earlobe. Willy shudders so Zach does it again and then they’re stumbling over to Zach’s couch, falling together and Zach ending up underneath Willy, for once.

“I’m so into you,” Willy mumbles and reaches for the hem of his hoodie. They struggle to get it off over Zach’s head, mostly because Willy abandons the effort halfway through to run his hands over Zach’s exposed body. When he’s finally free, he wrestles Willy free of his jacket and ugly sweater. Willy kisses his way down Zach’s body and flicks his tongue over Zach’s nipple, which goes straight to his dick.

“Fuck,” Zach moans and pulls him up for another kiss.

“You like that, daddy?” Willy murmurs and Zach buries his head into Willy’s shoulder, shaking as he tries to hold onto his fragile control. He’s never been like this before with anyone, so quick to lose every ounce of control that he has over himself. Shame rolls through him and he fights it.

“Yeah,” he says eventually, his voice low and gravelly. He turns Willy’s face towards him and he kisses him hard, grinding his hips down against Willy’s. “Do you like it, baby?”

“Fuck yeah,” Willy breathes and Zach reaches between them to shove Willy’s sweats down to his knees. He slides his hand into Willy’s boxers, whimpering at the feel of his cock, hard and heavy in his hand, throbbing and leaking.

“Yeah, you like this a lot,” Zach whispers in his ear and hears Willy whine helplessly as Zach closes his fist around him and starts to jerk him off.

“I like you so much, daddy,” Willy whines and blindly turns his head, looking for Zach’s mouth.

“Again,” Zach demands and Willy obeys him so beautifully, calling him daddy over and over again as Zach jerks him off with strong, even strokes.

“Come for me, baby,” Zach says and shudders as he feels Willy’s orgasm rip through his body, his come coating Zach’s hand as he eases him through it. “Good job, baby. That was so good, Willy, you’re so good for me baby.”

“Yeah,” Willy sighs, his eyes closed and his hands buried in Zach’s hair, holding him close as his body gradually starts to relax. “So good, daddy.”

Zach’s so hard that his dick actually hurts.

“You gonna let me rub off on you, baby?” Zach asks as he starts to roll his hips before Willy even answers him. He feels hands pulling on his own sweats, yanking them down along with his boxers and then his dick is finally free, leaking all over Willy’s groin and belly.

“Yeah, come on me,” Willy murmurs. His eyes are open now, watching Zach with lazy, heavy eyes. “Please, daddy.”

“Fuck,” Zach can feel his body start to shake. He’s so close to the edge already. “You want that?”

“I’m so, so into you,” Willy says and Zach cries out as he comes, his head dropping onto Willy’s chest as his dick pumps out stream after stream of come onto Willy’s skin. “So into you, Zach,” he murmurs and slides his hand through Zach’s hair in comfort.

“I’m into you too,” Zach says later, when they’ve each taken showers and they’re on Zach’s couch, the scene of the crime, with enough sushi to satisfy two professional hockey players. WIlly’s foot is hooked around Zach’s ankle and he keeps stealing food from Zach’s plate.

Zach doesn’t mind at all.

“Yeah, I know,” Willy says with a grin.

Zach kisses him goodbye at the door, slow and thorough, until they’re both mussed up and they’re both gonna have the worst case of beard burn tomorrow at practice. Zach doesn’t give a shit though, because Willy’s into him and Zach’s really, really into him too.

*

Zach manages to remain totally professional at morning skate. He might flush a little when he looks up and sees Willy walking into the locker room, his eyes already on Zach. And he might get a little hot when Willy bumps into him while they wait for their drills to start. But aside from that, and all the times he catches Willy’s gaze and they both grin dumbly at each other, they’re totally professional.

“Hey,” Willy says, resting his arm against Zach’s stall and grinning down at him. Practice is over and Willy’s half-dressed after his shower, and Zach really wants to kiss him all over. “The boys are going out for lunch. You wanna come?”

“I can’t,” Zach says. “I’ve got some calls this afternoon. You know, my gamer shit.”

Willy laughs and reaches for his wrist, giving it a quick squeeze. “So boring.”

“Yeah, that’s me,” Zach says dryly. “So boring and responsible, thinking about my future and a life post-hockey.”

“Yeah, but do you have to think about it today?” Willy pouts at him.

“Yes, Willy,” Zach says and gets to his feet, letting his shoulder purposefully brush against Willy’s. “I thought you liked me being responsible,” he murmurs, turning his head to make sure that no one else overhears him.

“I do,” Willy murmurs back. “It’s hot.”

“Yeah?” Zach hides his smile as he pulls on his hoodie.

“Yeah, daddy,” Willy whispers and then he saunters away, leaving Zach staring at his stall, desperately trying to think unsexy thoughts. Zach grabs his bag, shoves his feet into his sneakers, and yells out a quick goodbye before he hurries through the door. He’s blindly walking down the corridor when a hand curls around his wrist and drags him into a room.

“Holy shit,” he swears as Willy pushes him back against the door. There’s a quiet click of a lock and then Willy’s mouth is on his.

“Here?” Zach pants between kisses.

“Please, daddy,” Willy whines.

“Shit,” Zach mutters and spins Willy around in his arms. “You want it here?”

Willy arches back against him and Zach yanks his shirt up so he can run his hands up and down Willy’s body, feeling so much warm, bare skin that he’s dizzy with it. He latches his mouth onto Willy’s neck, sucking what he hopes is going to be a truly ugly, possessive hickey just below his ear while he finds Willy’s nipples with his searching fingers and pinches them gently.

Willy groans and lets his head fall back against Zach’s shoulder. “Please,” he begs and Zach pinches a little harder, humming happily when Willy’s eyes flutter shut and his mouth falls open. He slides one hand down Willy’s taut belly and makes quick work of undoing his fly. He slides a hand inside, under the waistband of his boxers and with a firm grip, starts to jerk him off.

“Yes, yes, yes,” Willy chants under his breath, writhing in Zach’s arms. “Please, daddy!”

“So good,” Zach murmurs in his ear. He’s vaguely aware that they’re in a training room and a locked door isn’t necessarily going to keep anyone out, so they’ve got to be quick. “You’re so good for me, baby.”

He thumbs over Willy’s slit, smearing precome down his shaft and making everything feel a million times better. “So desperate, you couldn’t wait until we got out of here, eh?”

Willy whines and Zach reaches up with his free hand to grab Willy’s chin, turning him to the side so Zach can kiss him breathlessly. His own dick is aching but getting Willy off is his only goal right now, and Zach’s good at focusing.

He speeds up his movements, using his free hand to tweak Willy’s nipple again and that’s all it takes as Willy lets out a sob and comes. Zach can’t tear his gaze away from him, watching Willy empty himself all over Zach’s hand. He’s shaking, letting Zach take most of his weight and keeping him upright.

“Shh,” Zach murmurs. He pulls Willy’s shirt down with his clean hand and slips the other out of Willy’s boxers. He’s not a fan normally, but he brings his hand to his mouth and licks his fingers clean. Then he reaches down to fix Willy’s pants and presses another kiss to his cheek. “Okay?”

“I’m so into you,” Willy says and turns around to kiss him on the mouth.

Zach smiles into the kiss. “I think you’re a little into the daddy thing too, baby.”

“It’s hot,” Willy says, unrepentant.

“Is that why you started it?” Zach asks between kisses.

“You started it,” Willy says and reaches behind Zach to unlock the door. He glances down at himself, all rumpled and definitely giving off a post-orgasm glow but he shrugs and steps outside anyway, waiting for Zach to join him before he starts walking towards the exit.

“I definitely didn’t,” Zach says when he’s checked around to make sure they’re alone.

“You did,” Willy insists. “You got this look on your face when I called you dad the first time and I guessed you were super into it.”

“Well, that’s amazing because I didn’t even know I was into it,” Zach points out.

“Thanks,” Willy says solemnly and skips out of Zach’s reach when he tries to swat at him. “Daddy porn isn’t weird, Zach. I’ve gotten off to it before. It’s hot.”

“Right,” Zach says. He wasn’t sure he believed Willy before, but the sticky evidence of how into it Willy probably is remains on his hand.

“And I’ve been into you forever,” Willy adds, just as they arrive at his car and come to a stop.

“You have?” Zach asks, surprised.

Willy rolls his eyes. “Yeah. That’s why I figured I’d give this a shot. And it worked.”

Zach glances around and places his hands on Willy’s car, either side of him so he’s pinned there. “I really want to kiss you,” he says softly.

“Later,” Willy promises and turns to open his door. “I owe you one.”

Zach groans and lets him go. “I could pick you up later, drive you to the arena for the game.”

“Yeah?” Willy beams at him as he settles behind the wheel. “You gonna drive me home after too?”

“Might bring a toothbrush,” Zach says. “In case I get lucky.”

“Zach, buddy,” Willy says and rolls his eyes. “You’re getting so lucky. Whenever you want.”

Zach leans down to Willy’s open window. “I’m really, really into you,” he says seriously.

“Don’t bother with pyjamas,” Willy tells him and starts the engine. “You won’t need them.”

*

They lose the game, and the mood in the locker room is somber. No one suggests going out, so Zach and Willy climb into his car and he heads towards Willy’s place.

“You wanna eat?” Willy asks around a yawn. He’s slumped in his seat and looks about as tired as Zach feels.

“You got anything for a sandwich?” Zach asks. He’s not in the mood for something heavy, but the need to replace calories after a game is ingrained in their psyches.

“Probably,” Willy says and closes his eyes. Zach turns the radio volume up a little and they drive in silence for the rest of the journey.

When they reach Willy’s apartment, he heads for the kitchen and starts pulling out ingredients from his refrigerator. Zach drops his overnight bag in Willy’s room, which is surprisingly immaculate down to the made bed with crisp white sheets, and heads back out to sit on a stool to watch Willy work.

“You wanna talk about what we’re doing?” he asks eventually, when Willy slides a plate over to him. He takes a bite and lets out a tiny moan of appreciation.

Willy smiles and takes his own bite. “We’re eating, bud,” he says, once he’s swallowed his mouthful.

“You know what I mean,” Zach says and knocks his knee against Willy’s. “Like, boundaries or whatever.”

“I’m super into everything we’ve done so far,” Willy tells him. Zach reaches over to wipe a little sauce from his cheek. “Like, really into it.”

“Good to know,” Zach says. “Me too.”

“I’m not really into the whole submissive thing,” Willy says casually and Zach nearly chokes on his sandwich. “I don’t mind you manhandling me, like today. That was hot. But I don’t wanna be treated like a child or whatever. That’s kinda weird.”

“Okay,” Zach says, blinking slowly and a little confused, but totally one hundred per cent onboard. “So me calling you baby-”

“Yes,” Willy says fervently and reaches over to cup the back of Zach’s head, dragging him in for a quick, hard kiss. “I like that.”

“And the daddy thing,” Zach murmurs.

“Yes,” Willy says again.

“Right,” Zach says. “I mean, I don’t want to be your daddy or anything, you know that right?”

“Gross,” Willy agrees, twisting his expression into a faint look of horror. “Just like, what you already like doing, right? Looking after me when I’m wasted or ill or being an idiot. Or when I’m horny.”

Zach’s lips twitch into a smile. “Exactly. Nothing too hardcore. I’m not into that, I don’t think.”

Willy smiles back at him and leans over to rest his head on Zach’s shoulder. They sit there for a while, letting their bodies relax into their new bumps and bruises from the game. “This is nice,” Willy says after a while. Their plates are empty, the open-plan apartment bathed in the soft glow of the dimmed spotlights from the kitchen area and everything feels calm.

Willy yawns and lifts his head. “Bed?”

Zach presses a kiss to his forehead. “You go ahead. I gotta call Shane real quick.”

“Such a good big bro,” Willy says and gets to his feet. “Say hi for me.”

“Yeah, that’s a conversation I don’t need to have with my baby bro for a while yet,” Zach sighs.

“You’re not telling your family about us?” Willy asks, sounding more surprised than upset.

“Why, have you told yours?” Zach asks, momentarily taken aback. He hasn’t really considered telling his family yet. He isn’t even exactly sure what this is, between them. He knows what he wants it to be though.

“I told my mom,” Willy says with a shrug. “She likes you a lot.”

“Oh,” Zach says softly, his cheeks heating up. “Well, that’s good. I like her too. And your dad.”

“Yeah, not sure Dad’s going to like it as much,” Willy says thoughtfully. “You know, being that you’re a Canadian.”

“Willy, you’re technically Canadian,” Zach says, rolling his eyes. “You were born in Calgary. Does your dad really care about that stuff?

“I guess I’ll find out when mom tells him,” Willy says. He doesn’t sound too bothered. “Do you think your family’s going to chirp you for having a pretty boyfriend?”

Zach sucks in a shaky breath. Apparently that relationship talk isn’t necessary. “Absolutely,” he says as steadily as he can, running his fingers through Willy’s messy hair. “Plus, you’re not Jewish. That’s gonna be an issue.”

“Wow, we should probably end this now then,” Willy says, wrapping his arms around Zach’s neck. “We had a good run.”

“Best few days of my life,” Zach agrees and leans in to kiss him, keeping it light but thorough. He’s developing a bit of an addiction to Willy’s mouth and how it feels under his.

“Call your brother,” Willy says, putting a hand between them and pushing Zach back a few steps. “Then come to bed, yeah?”

Zach watches him disappear into the bathroom before he picks up his phone.

He ends up talking to Shane for longer than he plans to, so by the time he’s brushed his teeth and stripped down for bed, Willy’s half asleep, curled up on his side and leaving a lot of room for Zach to make himself comfortable. They’ve never shared a bed before. Zach crawls under the covers and after a moment’s hesitation, loosely wraps himself around Willy.

“You’re not always going to be the big spoon,” Willy mutters, his voice thick with sleep. He tangles his fingers with Zach’s and pulls their clasped hands up to his chest. He’s warm and solid, and Zach presses a kiss to the back of his neck.

“Goodnight, Willy,” he says quietly.

“G’night, babe,” Willy slurs and within seconds, his breathing turns even and heavy. Zach closes his eyes, squeezes Willy’s hand gently and matches their breathing until he falls asleep too.

*

Zach watches Willy laugh too loudly at something JT’s saying and shakes his head. Willy leans a little too heavily on JT’s arm and the only thing preventing them from toppling to the floor is their captain’s excellent sense of balance.

“Looks like you need to cut him off,” Mitch says. Or slurs, really. He’s half draped over Zach’s shoulders and his breath smells like stale beer.

“He’s not the only one,” Zach says and carefully plucks Mitch’s arms off him and transfers them to Travis. He’s not sure Mitch even notices.

Zach stands up and makes his way over to Willy and JT.

“Hey bud,” Zach says, clasping his hand to Willy’s shoulder. “Everything alright?”

“Hyms,” JT says with a warm smile. To his credit, he doesn’t bail as soon as Zach appears.

“It’s okay,” Zach tells him. “I’ll take him home.”

“Hymie!” Willy shifts his weight to lean on Zach instead, hooking their arms together. “Did you know JT’s got the cutest kid in the whole world?”

“Yeah, bud,” Zach assures him and gives JT a little hip nudge to get him moving. He takes the hint and leaves at a completely normal, sedate pace. Unlike the rest of their teammates, who would have booked it out of there as soon as Zach turned up. “Alright, I know for a fact that you’ve only had two drinks all night, what gives?”

Willy reaches up to bop his nose, giggling when Zach scrunches it. “I saw Mitch pounding them back earlier,” he says, swaying closer like he’s having a hard time focusing. Zach has seriously underestimated Willy’s past acting abilities because he’s selling this like a champ. He’s impressed. “And I wanted to make sure you took me home, daddy.”

Zach goes hot all over and casts a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure Willy wasn’t overheard. “Shh,” he hisses, when he’s sure there’s no one close. “Not here.”

“Mmm, I disagree,” Willy says, giggling against Zach’s shirt where he’s resting his head. His clever, quick fingers are dancing over Zach’s shirt, pressing against his belly. “Maybe you should punish me, daddy.”

“Shit,” Zach says and drags in a sharp breath as his dick reacts predictably. “You need to behave.”

“Make me,” Willy singsongs and tweaks Zach’s nipple through his shirt.

Zach grabs his wrist and pulls him in close, painfully aware of how solid Willy feels against him. “I’m taking you home,” he says firmly.

“Yeah,” Willy breathes, looking like every wet dream Zach’s ever had in his life.

The ride home is torturous but they make it to Zach’s place - a decision made purely on proximity - and as soon as they’re inside, Willy’s got his hands on Zach’s shirt, yanking it over his head.

“Come on, daddy,” Willy teases as he makes his way to Zach’s bedroom, kicking off his jeans as he goes and dropping his shirt to Zach’s floor before he disappears through the door. Zach swears loudly and strips as quickly as he can without giving himself a concussion and races after Willy, catching him just before they tumble onto Zach’s half-made bed together.

“That’s not gonna work on me every time, you know,” Zach says, reaching up to stroke Willy’s hair back from his face.

“Yes it will,” Willy says with absolute confidence. “Daddy.”

Zach groans just before he captures Willy’s mouth with his, kissing the smirk right off Willy’s beautiful face. His hands wrap around Willy’s wrist and gently pull them up over his head, stretching him out under Zach’s body. He looks as innocent as an angel, blinking up at Zach with absolute trust in his eyes.

“God, Willy,” Zach says shakily and rolls his hips very slowly, letting Willy feel exactly how turned on he is. “I like you so much.”

“Show me,” Willy murmurs, biting his lip. “Daddy.”

Zach dips down to kiss his chest, trailing his lips to Willy’s nipple and catching the nub between his teeth. He feels Willy shudder underneath him. “Again,” he orders.

“Daddy,” Willy says and slides his thigh between Zach’s. “Show me.”

Zach kisses his way down Willy’s body, taking his time before he finally takes Willy’s leaking dick into his mouth and gives him the slowest, wettest blowjob he’s ever given. He pins Willy’s hips to the bed when he tries to thrust into Zach’s mouth, desperate for something that Zach’s not ready to give, not just yet.

“Please Zach,” Willy sobs, his hands gripping the sheets so hard that his knuckles have gone white.

Zach lets Willy’s dick slip out of his mouth, giving his jaw a slight reprieve as he kisses Willy’s inner thigh and nips gently at the sensitive skin before he sucks Willy down again. He blindly reaches up for Willy’s hands and pulls them carefully away from the sheets. He links their fingers together as he finally takes Willy all the way down to the back of his throat. He stops teasing and lets Willy come, watching as Willy lets his orgasm rip through him. It’s beautiful.

“Hey,” Zach says softly when he crawls back up Willy’s hot, sweaty body and smooths his hair away from his face so he can see Willy’s blissed out expression. “You okay?”

“No game tomorrow,” Willy mumbles, except it comes out so garbled that it takes Zach a second to parse.

“And an optional skate,” Zach says, running his hand up and down Willy’s torso gently.

“You should fuck me,” Willy says, clearer this time and with his eyes open, staring at Zach with an intensity that makes Zach shiver in anticipation.

“Yeah?” Zach asks.

“I’m so into you,” Willy answers, tracing Zach’s lips with his fingers. “Like, so into you.”

“Me too,” Zach says and kisses him.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic] Don't Forget to Breathe](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23360443) by [Annapods](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annapods/pseuds/Annapods)


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